


Eight Nights of Light

by MissMudpie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMudpie/pseuds/MissMudpie
Summary: The Eight Nights of Hanukkah, through the years.  Written for the 2016 Olicity Secret Santa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a gift for sarahreesemd for the 2016 Olicity Secret Santa. Shout out to Lerayon, who helped me get unstuck.
> 
> While personally not Jewish, I did to research for this story. If anything is wrong, though, please let me know and I'll correct it.

The First Night  
December 17, 2071

“Mom? Mom?”

Felicity jerks, tearing her eyes away from Oliver playing dreidel with their youngest grandkids to look at her daughter. 

“You okay?” Ada asks. “You were in your own little world for a minute there.”

“I’m fine,” Felicity answers, trying to brush away her concerns before he notices. But of course he notices. Oliver’s physical reflexes might have dulled over the years and decades, but his senses remain as sharp as ever. She watches as he talks to the kids – whatever he tells them makes them giggle – before meeting her eyes.

“Come help me with something?” he says, which has been their code for ‘Let’s talk about this in private’ since Tommy was three.

The kitchen still smells like apples and fried food; the oil still sits in the pan where they’d made the latkes earlier that evening. Tommy’s youngest had listened intently as Oliver gave him instructions on how to flip them. It reminded her of when Oliver had tried – in vain – to teach Ada the same thing, only for grease to splatter everywhere.

She’s been doing that all evening – remembering, reliving moments from the past, holding onto them tight least they slip away, as if –

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” Oliver says.

As if he’s already gone.

“I told you I feel fine. You know the rule – no one in the hospital during Hanukkah.”

Oliver turned 86 in May, and every day since then Felicity’s wondered if this was it, if this was the last day they’d have together. 

Thwane’s gift had turned into a curse. Every day was like a game of Russian roulette, and as the months had passed and each additional day drew a blank, she couldn’t help but run the odds.

Oliver had taken almost the opposite approach. After so many years actively avoiding death, he seemed to be taking a page from Harry Potter and was set on receiving it as an old friend. He’d reached out to those members of Team Arrow and Team Flash who were still with them, finding time – making time – to reconnect. They’d flown to see each other their kids’ families twice, and he’d insisted everyone come home for Hanukkah. 

For his last Hanukkah.

“It’s just…It’s your…” But she can’t say it. Her throat closes, choking the words. It’s their last Hanukkah together – their last everything together – and she doesn’t want to imagine life on the other side of this, what her world looks like without Oliver by her side.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling her into a hug, and for a moment she’s twenty-four again, feeling his arms around her for the first time.

“I never could have dreamed I would get this life,” he murmurs in her hair. “Look what we have. And yeah, this is my last one. But Felicity, hun, you’re missing it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just be happy.” He pulls back just enough to place a kiss on her brow and wipe away an errant tear. “Just be happy.”

She gives him a watery smile. “Okay.”

Ada gives her a concerned look when they return, but Felicity reassures her with a smile that feels stronger this time. She plays dreidel with her grandchildren and sneaks them gelt behind their parents’ backs. And as their last first night comes to a close, she learns her head on Oliver’s chest and watches her family.

(Oliver passes in his sleep a little less than four months later, on a warm night in early spring.)

 

The Second Night  
December 24, 2019

She half-expects him to stumble over the prayer – hell, she still can’t always get the Hebrew right – but then she remembers that this is the man who learned both Chinese and Russian with no formal training. Oliver’s voice is soft, but sure, as he recites the words of thanks.

Converting to Judaism was his idea; he told her later he’d actually first looked into it while they were in Ivy Town. But then they’d returned to Star City. He started classes again after they reunited, but some new villain was constantly derailing his efforts. Finally, this year he’d made conversion a priority, and three weeks ago he’d been immersed in the mikveh. 

Oliver lights the second and first candles. When he’s done Felicity takes his hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“I wanted to.” He rubs his free hand over her expansive belly.

“We could have still put up a tree. We’ve done that before.”

“Next year. This year should be just this.”

They stand silent, one of the last times before two becomes three, watching the lights flicker. 

(Their son is born eight days past his due date, early on the morning of his namesake’s birthday.)

 

The Third Night  
December 10, 2042

“It’s too quiet,” Felicity complains, and Oliver huffs a laugh as he sits next to her on the couch.

“So you’ve said.”

“I know. I’m just – ” she waves her hand holding her wine around in a wide circle. “I’m used to there being more chaos.”

It’s the first Hanukkah that’s just them. Tommy is in his first year of graduate school; Ada is finishing her first semester at college. Both are up to their eyeballs in papers and exams. Neither has called since sunset on the first night, although Ada did send a photo of the potato latkes they were serving in her dining hall. “Not as good as Dad’s,” read the caption.

Sans children for the first time, they had hosted Rory and his family on the first night; the Diggles had come last night. But tonight, it’s just them.

“You realize it’s been just the two of us for months now.”

“I know.”

“Just last week you were talking about how much more room there was on DVR now that Ada is off at college.”

“I know,” she repeats. “It’s just different on the holidays.” She sits back on the couch, squints her eyes, purses her lips – a picture of overstated sullenness.

Oliver responds with an exaggerated sigh of his own. “Alright. I knew this would happen, so I got you this.” He reaches behind the couch and hands her a small gift bag.

“I thought we were going to wait for the kids to come home.”

“It’s not much. Just a little something to cheer you up. And make you glad that the kids aren’t home.”

“Make me glad the kid’s aren’t…..Oliver. Jonas. Queen. Is this…?”

Oliver smirks. “Yes?”

“Is this a Sex Bomb Bath Bomb?”

(Tommy and Ada return home – laundry in tow – a week later, to a pair of parents who have apparently forgotten how to keep their PDA behind closed doors.)

 

The Fourth Night  
December 16, 2017

“You need to wake up, Oliver. Do you hear me? You need to wake up.”

There was a battle on the rooftops. The rest of the Team was pinned down, so Oliver took on the man who called himself Chaos on his own. It was an even fight, but Oliver had had the upper hand.

Until Chaos activated his gauntlet and landed a blow that sent Oliver careening off the roof. 

Until Oliver’s grappling arrow failed to stick.

“I just got you back. We just each other back. You don’t get to leave like this.”

It was a miracle he hadn’t broken his neck, but the internal damage was severe. After nearly 16 hours of surgery, the doctors had put him in a medically induced coma for two days. They’d stopped the drugs the night before.

Oliver still hadn’t woken up.

“No one in the hospital at Hanukkah. That’s the new rule.”

There’s no response except the steady beep of the heart monitor.

(He wakes up just before sunset.)

 

The Fifth Night  
December 25, 2030

“This is chaos,” Iris proclaims, and Felicity laughs.

“Better this chaos than the other kind, though.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Caitlin says, and the three women clink glasses.

Team Flash had arrived just after lunch. “We took the train,” Lora Allen bragged to Ada. “They served hot chocolate. It was tres elegant.” 

“I’ve always wanted to travel by train,” Ada sighed, in what Felicity guessed was a line from the Victorian Victoria series that was all the rage for girls their age.

(“I will chew my own hand off before I take mass transit again,” Barry muttered.)

The kids had spent the day in the snow – kindly provided by Caitlin – and had been decorating sugar cookies until they were hit with the accompanying sugar rush. 

The scene in front of them was, indeed, chaos.

“If I’m going to have to deal with all that, you know what I’m going to need?”

“More wine?” smiled Iris, and Felicity taps her nose.

But the kids are settled by sunset, and after lighting the menorah thirty-two people – Queens, Harpers, Diggles, Allens, Wests, Snows, Ramons, Regans, and even a Lance – sit down for what John Jr. declares “the best Chrismukkah dinner ever.”

(They only have a few more team-ups left, but they come together to celebrate the holidays every other year, even after the masks have been retired and replaced by a new generation.)

 

The Sixth Night  
December 13, 2023

“So much for no one in the hospital at Hanukkah.”

Felicity gives a tired laugh. “I think we can make an exception, just this once.”

Oliver strokes the top of his newborn’s head. “She’s a pretty perfect exception.”

“She really is. Even if she is a baldy.”

Oliver’s phone chimes, and he checks the message. “They’re here.”

“Oh boy,” Felicity says to her sleeping daughter. “Brace for impact.”

But the door to their room opens quietly, and Tommy tiptoes in, his movements almost comically slow.

“What are you doing, buddy?”

“Nana said to be quiet and sloooow.”

“But Nana can’t get in the door if you don’t move, Tommy!” Donna finally squeezes her way in, armed with bright pink balloons. “Oooooo!! Where’s my newest nugget?”

“Nana, you gotta be quiet,” Tommy admonishes. 

Oliver lifts him so he can see his sister. “There she is. There’s Ada.”

“She’s little.”

“She is.”

Tommy regards her. “Well, she’s not gonna sleep in my bed.”

“Tommy,” Donna calls. “Do you want to give Ada her Hanukkah present?”

Tommy brandishes the small pink elephant. “It’s for you, Ada.” Then he frowns.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Felicity asks.

“Well,” Tommy furrows brow. “Well, I think maybe I shoulda gotted her some hair instead.”

(It becomes tradition that, every Hanukkah, Tommy gives his younger sister some type of hair product. When she loses her hair to chemo in 2083, he buys her a bright pink wig. She insists on wearing it whenever she’s in public with him – even after her hair grows back.)

 

The Seventh Night  
December 22, 2014

Twelve days since Oliver had left for the mountain.

Nine days since Malcolm had brought them the sword that killed him.

It hadn’t gotten easier. Sure, work had served as a distraction, as had Laurel’s new involvement with the team. And it was better to know – she did hate mysteries, after all.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

But when she was alone, in her apartment, with nothing with which to occupy her mind – that’s when the grief came. And the anger. And the thoughts of what might have been.

Felicity lights the seven candles by rote, not even bothering with the prayer. What good will prayer do now? So she settles on the couch and tries to think of nothing.

A loud bang from her window startles her. And then – no, but – it looks like – can it – 

“Oliver?”

He’s there, climbing in through her window, clothes torn and movements slow but definitely there and whole and alive.

“Oliver?!” She’s off the couch and in his arms before either can blink.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispers in her hair.

“Are you hurt?”

“A little?”

“But Malcolm…the sword…How did you survive?”

“Does that matter now?” he asks as he guides them to the couch. “All that matters is that I’m here.”

“So,” Felicity sniffles. “You stayed away from the bright white light, I guess.”

“No white light.” He gives her a rueful smile. “But almost dying has given me a new perspective on life.”

“Such as?”

Oliver takes her hand. “I told you I couldn’t be Oliver Queen and the Arrow. I still don’t know if I can be both, but I know for sure I can’t be either of them without you.”

“Oliver.”

He kisses her, and it’s so much sweeter than their first one. “I love you, Felicity. I want to be with you.”

“I love you, too,” she murmurs, guiding his lips back to hers…

A loud bang from her window startles her. A tree branch, waving in the wind.

The apartment is dark.

Oliver is still dead.

And the lights from the menorah have been snuffed out.

(He returns soon after, but his different perspective has nothing to do with them.)

 

The Eighth Night  
December 31, 2016

She hasn’t bothered to light the menorah.

It’s sitting on the table near the windows, but that’s as far as she got.

There doesn’t seem to be a point.

The Amazon box mocks her. It arrived on the morning of the 24th – Christmas Eve, and the first night of Hanukkah. It took her a moment to remember what she’d ordered, and when she did she flung the box away. It’d landed in the middle of the room, and that’s where it’d stayed for the past eight days.

The knock on the door makes her grumble as she shuffles off the couch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “I said I just wanted to be alone, Thea.”

“It’s not Thea.”

Felicity freezes. Oliver makes no other sound, and she knows instinctively that he’s waiting on her. He didn’t have to let her know it was him before she opened the door, but he did. He could have made pleading excuses to be let in, but he hasn’t.

Whether she opens the door is entirely up to her.

She hesitates, and for a moment she thinks of asking him to leave. But then her hand is on the door handle and she pulling it open. 

“Thank you,” he says, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him.

“You didn’t need to check on me. Thea’s been coming by. Rory, too.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

“I’m fine,” Felicity says, and they both know it’s a lie. “How are you?”

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m not the one who matters here.”

“Right. You’re just the one who killed him.”

It’s like she’s watching the words leave her mouth, hears how the words distort her intentions. Oliver steps back, as if she’s physically struck him, and breathes her name.

“No! No, that’s not…” She reaches for him without actually touching him. “My brain and my mouth…I meant that killing someone is…It matters, and you matter, and you’re going through this, too.” She rubs her forehead with the palm of her hand. “It all makes sense in here.”

“I get it.” Oliver gives her a small smile. “Thank you.”

For a brief moment, it’s no longer awkward between them.

“What’d you bring?” she asks, pointing at the brown paper bag in his hand.

He looks almost embarrassed. “Sufganiyot.”

Felicity flashes back to that night in Positano, when she’d told him about all her Hanukkah traditions, and Oliver had promised to make her sufganiyot. She’d been in the hospital last year, and this year…

“I don’t – I don’t think I can deal with this right now.” She’s aware of how abrupt her change in attitude is, but can’t find it in herself to care. 

“Felicity.”

“Oliver. You need to leave.”

He regards her for a moment, perhaps debating if he wants to fight her on this, but then his shoulders drop. “Okay.” He moves to place the bag on the counter. “I know you won’t call me if you need something, but please call Thea,” he says, bending down now to pick up the Amazon box.

“Don’t touch it!” she screams, and Oliver freezes. Felicity tries to quickly compose herself. “Just leave it there.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Felicity.” His voice has dropped, edging into Arrow territory. “Who sent you the box?”

“I did!”

“Then what’s in it?”

“I don’t remember!” she cries, and the floodgates open. All the pain of the last year – being shot, losing and regaining her legs, losing Oliver, Havenrock, losing Billy – all of it comes pouring out and brings her to her knees. He moves to catch her, but she waves him off. “Don’t. Please, just don’t.” In the back of her mind she knows she’s hurting him, that it causes him pain to see her like this and not be allowed to help, but her own grief overwhelms that.

When she can finally speak again, her voice is hoarse. “I ordered it. Weeks ago. It was Billy’s Christmas present – you know, I never even told him I was Jewish? – and I have no idea what’s in it. I vaguely even remember ordering it – I think I did it on my phone in line for coffee. Because that’s how much it mattered. How much he mattered. And now he’s dead but Amazon didn’t know that and they delivered me a dead man’s gift. I don’t even remember what’s in it, and I can’t bring myself to open it, and so it’s just been sitting there. It’s Schrödinger’s Amazon box.”

Oliver nudges the box with his toe. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Don’t I?” She stands and wipes her eyes. “Because I might have closed the door on you and me, but I kept every damn window open. And I’m pretty sure Billy knew it.” She didn’t mean to share that, so she decides to divert. “Where’s Susan?”

Oliver’s head whips up. “What?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Why aren’t you with Susan?”

“Because I’m not with Susan.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting that. “Good. I mean, I didn’t know her but Thea was definitely not a fan so I’m sure she’s thrilled. But why?”

His gaze is steady when he answers. “Because it wasn’t real.”

Felicity closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Real.” She makes her way to the fireplace. “You and I – We were supposed to be real, and look how that turned out. I’m beginning to think reality might be over-rated.”

Oliver is silent for a long time, to the point that Felicity is pretty sure he’ll be gone when she decides to turn around. 

“You haven’t lit your menorah.”

“Didn’t see the point.” There’s movement behind her, and she turns to find him rummaging through their old junk drawer. “What are you doing?”

“I lived a long time without hope. I’m not doing it again.” Oliver holds up a book of matches. “And I’m not letting you do it, either.” He approaches the menorah but waits until she’s joined him to strike the match and light the shamash. 

“Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His Commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah light. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

She joins him in the prayer half-way through, surprised yet not that he knew it in English. He lights the candles, one at a time, each a small stab of light in the darkness.

She takes his hand.

Outside, there’s a cheer as revelers celebrate the clock striking midnight.

“Felicity.” She turns to face him. “I know I’m not the man you need, not yet. But I want to be.” He squeezes her hand. “I will be.”

“Oliver.” She swallows, taking the time to make sure each word is right. “I haven’t completely forgiven you yet.” He nods. “But I want to. I will.”

The words feel strangely like vows.

“Happy New Year, Felicity.”

“Happy New Year, Oliver.”

(Eventually, it was.)


End file.
